Never to be Seen
by IrishNun
Summary: He quickly got to his feet and patted down the dirt. "What is it Bobby?" he noticed the man's face was paler than usual. "I'm sorry to tell you this, son," Bobby gulped. "But I think you're dead." Set after S7x19
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Never to be Seen

**Summary:** He quickly got to his feet and patted down the dirt. "What is it Bobby?" he noticed the man's face was paler than usual. "I'm sorry to tell you this, son," Bobby gulped. "But I think you're dead."

**A/N:** Set after S7x19

**Disclaimer**: I own Thomas, Caleb and Gerard. Unfortunately, I don't own Dean, Sam or Bobby... wah!

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Thomas couldn't remember much of what happened. It was Christmas and he and his brother had just been handed a brand new nickel each. He remembered it smelt like vinegar and he remembered catching his little brother's hand just before they crossed the road. He remembered the shopkeeper's smile and him giving them a bag of sweets adding a free hard boiled sweet to each. He remembered it tasted like sour apples and then...

*o*

Sam hit the refresh button one more time. Days had been passing by slowly ever since they ran out of ideas to stop Dick so now he was looking for a regular job. Nothing difficult. Just something to tie them over until they got another lead. He entered 'supernatural' into the search engine on his laptop again. The screen went white as the page refreshed. He glanced over to his brother and narrowed his eyes with concern. Dean had his arms folded on the table in front of him, his chin resting on top. In front of his face, grabbing all his attention was Bobby's flask. Every so often, he would unscrew it, look inside then screw the top back on.

"Dean, he's a ghost not a genie," Sam sighed.

Dean grabbed the flask and stuffed it in his inside jacket pocket. "Dude, I know. I'm not a complete idiot," although he seemed saddened it didn't work. "I'm bored," he whined. "Got anything for us to do?"

Sam rubbed his hands over his face wiping the burning tears away. He wished he hadn't hit that refresh button again. He wished he had just closed his laptop and took a week off from hunting. He opened his eyes and looked down at his brother. Half of him was still trapped under the rubble. He felt for a pulse on Dean's neck and wrist. He still couldn't find one. His brother was dead and it was all his fault.

* * *

**AN: **So, what'd you think? I'm making this a short fic. Only a couple of chapters long... depending on the reviews.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Okay, so I didn't realise how short the chapters were until I posted the first one. This is a little longer and I think I've worked out the kinks people spoke about. Tell me what you think, good or bad.

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**Chapter 2**

They were in Missouri investigating a boy named Caleb Stone. He fell into the water whilst on a fishing trip with his father. For thirty minutes, his father tried to resuscitate him. The doctors eventually pronounced his death when they finally made it to the hospital. Two hours later, just before the mortician made the first cute, Caleb woke up.

"One more time," Sam pleaded with a smile. Caleb was tired from talking. Everyone he had spoken to laughed at him and told him he was crazy. "We promise, we'll believe you," he said catching the boy's eyes with his. Caleb nodded feeling at ease around the strange men and told them how he was trapped between the real world and the spirit world. He was hiding from a Reaper who wanted to take his soul. "But Thomas helped me," the little boy thought back. "He told me what to do. He saved me."

Dean shrugged upon leaving the house. "The kid has a good imagination," he cracked when Sam asked how the boy could possibly know what a Reaper was. But Sam sighed and still tried to convince again him that there was something supernatural about the case. He had done his research before interviewing Caleb. In 1957, there were three young deaths which occurred at close proximity of each other. One of them was of a fifteen year old boy named Thomas Walker who died after chocking on a hard boiled sweet. In 1975, three more male teenagers died suddenly. If he was right, there were going to be another two deaths and they only had five days to stop it.

It was Sam's idea to interview Thomas Walker's brother. "I'm sorry," his only daughter met them at the front door. "My father died two months ago from heart failure." Or a broken heart, Sam thought. Brian Walker was five years younger than Thomas and was there when his brother died. "He never believed it," the daughter told them. "Even though he watched him die… he never believed he was actually dead," she smiled sadly and allowed them to follow her into the living room. She picked up an old photograph of the two brothers and handed it to them. "He tried everything and asked anyone who would listen to him for help. Everyone thought he was crazy."

"Did you?" Sam asked handing her back the photograph. She gently glided her fingers over the glass and sighed. "I went with him the last time he went to a psychic," she told them as she sadly placed the photo back on the shelf. "She told him things only Thomas would know… which made my father believe even her more. She told us he was trapped in between the real world and the spirit world but he unable to move on because his spirit had a different purpose now."

"Don't you think it's odd?" Sam tried to get his brother excited about the case. "That Caleb and Thomas said the exact same thing." Dean shrugged pulled the collar of his suit jacket up around his neck but it wasn't stiff enough and quickly fell down on his shoulders again. "Dude, what's up with you lately?" Sam stopped him from getting in the car. "You ask me for a case and then when I give you one, you're not interested." Dean tried to push by but his little brother was too tall. "It's nothing," he tried to say but it didn't work. Sam knew what was happening. He was missing Bobby all over again.

*o*

Sam now carried his brother's lifeless body back into the motel room and dropped it on his bed. He gently placed his brother's arms at his sides and straightened out his legs. He stood towering over his big brother and for a second it looked like he just was watching him sleep. But there was no movement in his chest and the only breathing that could be heard was his own.

He cursed himself for not listening to his brother's words. Dean wanted to drop the case. "Of course the kid is going to blame the shopkeeper for his death," he moaned. "If a waiter gave me a dodgy pie, I'd blame him too."

He looked around the motel room. There was nothing except silence and he suddenly realised he was alone. No Bobby and now no Dean. He saw his laptop and research books open on the table. He picked up the books and one by one, threw them hard across the room in frustration. He lifted up the wooden table and tipped it over screaming in the process. He felt a hollow emptiness inside him. He grabbed his head and flopped into the nearest chair. The pain in his chest was overwhelming and the lump in his throat forced him not to scream out again. "Please Bobby," he whispered covering his eyes with his hands. "I need your help."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Dean couldn't remember much of what happened. He remembered Sam finding the address of the shopkeeper's grandson, who had inherited the same sweet shop. He remembered asking the grandson some general questions. He remembered feeling bored and telling Sam such as they left the sweet shop. He remembered taking a swig of alcohol from Bobby's flask and a rumble noise above him and then...

He opened his sore eyes and pushed away rubble and stones from his face. He sneezed when dust tickled his nose and coughed hard when dirt invaded his throat. He rolled himself onto his knees and noticed Bobby standing in front of him. Dean quickly got to his feet and began patting the dirt from his jeans. "What is it Bobby?" he noticed the man's face was paler than usual.

Bobby looked the man up and down. "I'm sorry to tell you this, son," he gulped with wide eyes. "But I think you're dead."

Dean shook his head. "That's funny Bobby," he laughed but became serious when Bobby didn't join in. "How could I be dead, Bobby? Look at me," he slapped his hands on his chest. "I'm fine!"

They were suddenly joined by a third individual who flashed into existence. "What the hell is _he_ doing here?" he asked looking from one man to the other.

"This idjit got too close," Bobby pointed at Dean.

"Aw crap," the stranger's head fell to the side in a moan. "And I was really routing for you guys."

"What the hell is going...," Dean stopped when the young man's face suddenly became familiar. It was the same face he saw in the photograph. "Are you... Are we... Am I...," Dean stumbled over his words.

"Thomas Walker, at your service," the third man gave a short nod and quick smile. "Yes, we are in Limbo and yes you are dead... technically anyway."

Dean looked behind him and saw Sam kneeling over what looked like his dead body. Dirt and stones still covered his body. His face was scratched and pale. He watched his brother try to find a pulse in vein. He could hear him whimper and hold back the cries. He turned back to Bobby. "What the hell happened?"

"That wall fell on you," Bobby explained with finger quotes over the word fell. Dean drew his head back. Bobby wasn't one for air quotes. He turned to Thomas and back to Bobby. "A little head's up would have been nice."

Bobby sighed and his shoulders dropped. "I'm sorry, son but it's hard to leave Limbo when there's a spell holding the door close." Thomas quickly explained their reason for being trapped and it was all due to the shopkeeper.

*O*

They were standing in the motel room now watching Sam grieve. When Sam let out his whispered prayer, they both looked at Bobby. "Balls," the older man cursed. He wanted so much to appear to Sam right there but he couldn't break free.

"So what happens now?" Dean asked. He hated seeing his brother like this. "That depends on your brother," Thomas shrugged. "Has he ever given up on you before?"

Dean shook his head slightly in thought. He couldn't remember Sam ever giving up on him even when he did make it difficult. He watched Sam cry and it broke his heart, or at least it felt like it did. He had often thought about leaving the hunting business but not like this. He wanted to leave his way, not in the middle of a sentence. "I can't watch him like this," Dean dropped his head. "Isn't there something we can do?"

Thomas looked to Bobby and nodded. "We have to hide you."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **Apologies for the delay... work... life... blah, blah, blah!

**Chapter 4**

Sam waited in the empty motel room for someone who never came. He pulled his hands away from his eyes and felt a shiver go through him. He couldn't tell if Bobby was near or if grief running through him. He looked up at his brother. It was like he was only sleeping peacefully but he knew he that wasn't. He couldn't believe this had happened again. Dean had died because of him... again. "I'm sorry, Dean," he barely whispered and he felt another shudder go through him.

He looked around the room as though he could sense something. "Bobby?" he asked an empty corner but no one replied. He stood up and headed to his bag to grab a jumper but his foot slid on some blank pages. He bent down and turned them over. It was the information he had put together on Gerard Senior Butler, the owner of the sweet shop in 1957. He was about to rip up the page when something caught his attention. The page contained a photograph. "Huh," Sam said aloud. The fact that Gerard Senior looked exactly like the man they had met only a few hours ago was indeed strange.

He picked up his slightly bruised laptop and began clicking his fingers over the letters. He was searching for photographs for Gerard Junior, his father Gerard, his grandfather Gerard Senior and if possible his father. After a short while, he found what he was looking for.

He flicked between the four pictures. Apart from slightly different facial hair, each man was identical to the other. Sam looked over at Dean. He really wanted to hear a sarcastic comment right then but all he got was silence. "I'm going to figure this out, Dean," he said aloud as though his brother could hear. "I think Caleb was right to think his brother wasn't really dead. I'm going to figure this out and get you back," he promised.

*o*

Dean followed Thomas through the front door of the sweet shop. "I thought I couldn't move this far from my body like Bobby can't move away from his flask." Thomas led him to the back of the shop and up the stairs. "You start to learn a couple things after fifty five years," he smirked and took Dean into the private home of Gerard Junior Butler. The room seemed normal enough apart from the odd antique piece of furniture which included a working gramophone. When they entered the bedroom, Gerard had his back to them. He was kneeling in front of a small alter and mumbling something under his breath. Dean noticed that he looked a lot older to when they met him earlier. His back had arched and his hair had grayed. He pulled out a stone bowl and in it placed some brown hair and a sweet Dean remembered accepting from him.

Dean looked at Thomas for an explanation. "He's found a spell for eternal youth. All he needs is some hair and an item the victim touched. Then he can take their soul and live on the energy," Thomas looked at him sadly. "Three young men give him roughly forty years. He wasn't able to find me in '57 so he had to kill again in '75. I tried to help them but..." he turned back to Gerard. "At least I saved Caleb." Dean listened to what was being explained to him. Caleb was only twelve years old. The victims, apart from him, were getting younger. "Should I really be standing this close to him? Since he's looking for me, shouldn't I be hiding somewhere else?"

Thomas gave a short laugh. "Surprisingly, this is the safest place to be. The spell searches the area around the body because, as you said, the soul doesn't move that far away from what it's attached to. This is how I saved Caleb and it only took me fifty five years to figure it out!"

As Dean watched Gerard lift the bowl over his head, a thought washed over him. The feeling he had in the pit of his stomach was gone. He didn't feel angry, tired or depressed anymore. He felt at peace. He glanced at Thomas. His skin was deteriorating and his clothes were torn. He thought he should thank him for trying to help but the words wouldn't leave his mouth. Did he really want to go back? Did he really want to go back to a life he was growing to hate? He glanced behind him at the wall they came through. He thought about running back to the motel room and letting the Reaper take him. But he couldn't do that to Sammy, could he?


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **Well, I wasn't expecting over 1200 hits for this fic. I appreciate your time. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. This is the last chapter. There are a couple of POVs in this, each one is separated by *o*. Hope it makes sense and thanks again for reading.

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**Chapter 5**

Bobby leaned over and glanced at Sam's watch. It was seven thirty. He had been awake all night researching. "Don't give up, son," Bobby whispered as Sam reached out for another book. "You nearly have it." He was about to try to help when he noticed a dark shadow pass in front of his eyes. Bobby turned to see a man in a black suit standing by the bed where Dean lay. He was looking around and holding a pocket watch. When he noticed Bobby, he placed the watch into his inside pocket allowing the chain to hang freely. "You're not supposed to be here," the Reaper sighed.

"Neither are you," Bobby growled. "I'm just doing my job," the Reaper sighed again.

"Taking the souls of young boys before their time aint my idea of a good job," Bobby growled. The Reaper nodded. "I can see you're angry."

"I aint angry, you soulless bastard," he interrupted. "Taking the lives of children after they're murdered is one thing but to go after my boys... No, I aint angry. I'm fuming."

The Reaper raised his hand to calm the situation but it was too late. Bobby charged at him forcing him to disappear through the walls.

*o*

Sam turned over his wrist and noted it was seven thirty. He rubbed his face with his hands. His eyes were screaming for sleep. He reached over to grab another book when he suddenly realised he could see his own breath. An angry spirit, he thought and immediately looked over at Dean. He gulped hard. He was running out of time.

His laptop bleeped to life when a search he had entered was complete. He figured the reason for Gerard's youthful appearance was due to spell. In the books, he found the words to that spell and the ingredients that were required. The laptop showed the missing piece. The only way to acquire the souls was to trap a Reaper and the only way to trap a Reaper was with a certain emulate. Sam clicked on the picture. It was an oval, gold emulate with a red ruby stone in the centre. It was the size of a closed fist but still small enough to conceal. Destroying it would release the Reaper and restore the souls. Sam hoped he wasn't too late to bring his brother back to life.

*o*

Dean worried about what he was thinking. Retiring, quitting, whatever way he worded it, he was still walking away from his brother. Still, Sam had done it to him before so why couldn't he do it too. "Because this time you're dead," he whispered. Thomas glanced at him and asked if he was okay. Dean nodded and quickly lied. But he wasn't okay.

He shook his head. Why was this affecting him so much? Hunters had gone through far worse and come out the other side. Dad had lost mom, Sam had lost Jessica, Bobby had lost his wife even Frank lost his whole family and yet when Dean lost his best friend he thought his whole world was going to cave in. Maybe it was a rite of passage. Maybe he had to go through a great loss to see how good a hunter he was. He sighed when a realisation entered his mind.

He just didn't care anymore.

Gerard suddenly stopped speaking and quickly looked at a television monitor on a nearby shelf. A silent alarm had been tripped. The intruder hunched over a duffel bag and uneasily stood up. Dean instantly recognised him when the intruder shook the hair out of his eyes. "Sammy," he whispered. Gerard swiftly pulled out a knife that was taped underneath his chair. He then crept over the floor to hide behind the door and attack the unsuspecting stranger.

Dean could feel the anger boil up inside him. He had to warn his brother of the danger but didn't know how.

*o*

Sam pulled out his EMF meter at the bottom of the stair case and raised it above his head. The needle swung from side to side and the lights flashed a constant red. He wasn't alone and he breathed a sigh of relief. He pulled out Dean's gun he had tucked down the back of his trousers and clicked it into place. He clasped both hands around it and held it in front of his face. A shiver went through him as soon as he took the first step. "Dean?" he whispered as he let out a visible breath.

*o*

Gerard twisted the sharp knife between his fingers. He was used to killing people through words. This was going to be his first real kill. He heard the steps creak softly outside the door. Two, three, four. Only five more to go and he would have another soul. He felt an unusual shiver in his warm room and something made him turn around. A force suddenly hit his chest and threw him hard into the night stand that was behind him.

*o*

Sam ran into the room as soon as he heard the loud crash. His gun swept the room from left to right. It was only when the door swung close that he saw the man in agony on the floor. He went to help him up when he noticed the man's face. He was a lot older than when they first met and the wrinkles on his face were appearing as he was getting to his feet. The sight made Sam momentarily drop his gun. It was this moment of hesitation where Gerard made his move. But he couldn't get close enough to knick the man before he was thrown on the floor again.

"Dean?" Sam asked the empty space.

Before him appeared his bearded, peak capped, flannel shirt wearing friend. "No, Dean's standing behind you," Bobby pointed, "by the window."

Sam eagerly turned around but was disappointed to only see an empty window. His eyes searched the walls. He so wanted to see his brother again. "You have to find the emulate," Bobby broke the silence. Sam nodded and began searching the room. He searched the drawers, presses and shelves. He even checked under the bed but could find nothing. He could feel his eyes heating up with burning tears. He was losing his brother with every second that was wasted. He wiped the falling tears with the back of his hand and pulled in a sniff.

His head turned when he heard an old laugh. Gerard looked to be in his late nineties now and had a large smile plastered on his face. "You're too late," he pulled himself into a sitting position and leaned his head against the door. "Nothing you can do will bring your friend back. It doesn't work like that. Once they're dead, they're dead."

But that wasn't what Sam wanted to hear. He stormed across the room and grabbing the old man by the shoulders, lifted him up in the air. Sam had one hand wrapped around the man's neck when he noticed the gold chain. 'It was the size of a closed fist but still small enough to conceal,' he remembered reading. He took out Dean's gun and held it close the man's chest. The metal gun clicked against something hard. This time it was Sam who was smiling.

*o*

Dean sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes wide. The air felt damp and tasted musty. He quickly sat up in the bed and pulled his hands up in front of him, staring at them like they weren't his own. They were whole. He placed his hands on his chest and felt his heart beating. He was alive. The front door clicked and slowly swung open. When he saw his brother's eyes, his chest filled up with so much love he thought his heart was going to burst.

Maybe he did care… just a little.


End file.
